How long are we going to sit here like this?!
I had no idea how much time had passed since we sat across from the Duke. After that brief exchange, he went completely silent—just sitting there with his legs crossed, calmly sipping his tea like we didn't exist.
Dane, seated beside me, was happily nibbling on the snacks the butler had prepared. I should've been enjoying this rare moment of peace myself—savoring a warm cup of high-quality tea. After all, how often does a commoner like me get a taste of noble luxury?
But how could I?
If I didn't know how this story unfolds, I might've let myself relax.
But I do know. I know exactly where this is heading. And that makes it impossible to be at ease in front of this man.
I stole a glance at the Duke as I took a sip of tea. He looked so calm, as if he had all the time in the world. Honestly, what surprised me the most was how ridiculously handsome he was. I have to admit—he's got the kind of face that could stop traffic. No man I've ever met comes close to matching his looks.
Such a waste… He'll die once Dane turns thirteen.
"Is something the matter?"
His sudden question startled me so much I nearly spilled my tea. I hadn't expected him to look at me—let alone speak.
"N-nothing, Your Grace," I replied, setting my cup down. "Ah, now that I think about it… we haven't properly introduced ourselves yet."
I forced a polite smile. For all my frustration with him, he is a duke—and I'm still just a commoner.
"Really? It didn't even slip my mind," he said, taking a sip of his tea.
Well, that's a relief. If it were any other noble, we'd probably be scolded and accused of being ignorant or disrespectful.
I gently set my cup back onto its saucer and nudged Dane at his side. He looked up at me, clearly wondering why I was interrupting his snack time. I gave him a small smile—one he understood right away.
We both stood up and offered a respectful bow to the duke.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. My name is Adeline."
"It's also a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I'm Dane, my mother's son," Dane added politely.
"Son, huh…" the duke murmured, his tone unreadable. I didn't quite catch what he meant, but I noticed his sharp gaze lingering on Dane—studying him with careful interest.
"Your son doesn't resemble you at all," he finally said, eyes flicking between the two of us.
Dane and I sat back down. I kept my voice calm as I answered, "Well, he's not my biological son… but I love and cherish him as if he were."
The duke's expression didn't change, but his next question came quickly: "Where is his mother?"
"My mother is dead," Dane said before I could open my mouth.
I turned to glance at him. His face was downcast, his voice soft. I could see the sorrow in his eyes. No matter how much I tried to be a mother to him, I knew—nothing could ever truly replace his real mother, Iris.
"Dead?" the duke paused mid-sip, lowering his cup as he turned his gaze toward Dane.
"She died while giving birth to me," Dane continued, his tone laced with quiet grief.
My heart ached for him. He never really talked about it, but I could always sense the void he carried. I gave him love, warmth, and care, yet deep inside, a part of him would always long for the mother he never got to know. And I understood that. He is my son, after all.
"And this woman took her place," the duke remarked, now looking straight at me.
I wasn't sure how to react. Should I be angry at the way he said it—as if I were some placeholder? Or should I simply take it as his blunt way of referring to me?
Also, I have a name—
"She has a name, Your Grace. And I don't like the way you said that," Dane said calmly, but I could hear the tension in his voice. He was upset. He always got protective whenever someone spoke badly about me. In town, anyone who so much as raised their voice at me got a glare sharp enough to make them regret it.
The duke tilted his head slightly. "Looks like you've got a sharp tongue."
"I should. You can't survive in this world without knowing how to speak for the people you care about, Your Grace."
A pause. Then, the faintest hint of a smirk on the duke's lips. "Quite a smart kid you are."
"Thanks to my lovely mother, I've gained such skills," Dane said with pride.
"You're still a child, yet you act mature beyond your years," the duke remarked, raising an eyebrow.
"Age doesn't matter, does it?"
Oh no… I internally groaned. I know he's only standing up for me, but—he's talking back to a duke! I resisted the urge to smack Dane's head then and there.
The duke stood up and walked over to his desk, where piles of documents were stacked in near-chaotic order.
"You remind me of someone," he said as he rummaged through one of the drawers.
"And who might that be?" Dane asked curiously.
A wave of unease washed over me. My instincts screamed that something was about to go wrong.
Then I saw it—the duke smirked as he pulled out a picture frame and turned it toward us.
My breath caught in my throat. No… not that photo.
In the frame was a younger version of the duke… and the resemblance to Dane was undeniable.